


The Perils Of Forever

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [67]
Category: Pro Wrestling Guerrilla, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Backdoor Medical Procedures, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't Try This At Home, Injury, Jank Spanglish, Kayfabe Compliant, Kevin gets a little graphic in his descriptions, M/M, Stitches, Swearing, a bit of character overload, but it isn't nearly as bad as it usually is, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, poor Christopher doesn't even get to perv on anyone in this one, sucks to be him, terrible first aid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-31 06:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12126849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: Overly affectionate Luchadors, off screen hallway death matches, and horrible ring names that will haunt them for the rest of their lives.It's all in a day's work, backstage at a PWG show.(basically, the only two *cough* "adults" abandon the crew in favor of messing around on a rooftop, and shenanigans ensue. Poor Hero.)





	The Perils Of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> Man, am I the only one who really enjoys writing about all the backstage shenanigans that take place at events? Because holy shit, is it a blast to try and depict. All those dynamic personalities and rampant foolishness makes for one hell of a fun writing experience. That being said, it is also somewhat exhausting, but what can you do ^.^
> 
> The graphic violence is less so graphic violence, and more the aftermath of graphic violence. If you are squeamish, either stop reading when it gets to Kevin's point of view, or wait for next time, for possible fluff. Which you might actually get, since I am percolating the fourth entry in the Let's Walk Together, Not Apart series.
> 
> Speaking of other series, this one is probably not going to get updated next week. I am filling an Ambrollins request for LuckyLucy92, and I am not going to have time to edit two fics this next week. So, Ambrollins next week, this series the week after that. Let's Walk Together, Not Apart update sometime in the near-ish future.
> 
> Anywhoo, hope you like it an have a good week!

“Amigo!”

“Oh god-”

Colt raises an eyebrow at the horrified look creeping across Spanky’s face.

“What’s wrong dude? You okay?”

“Kill me...” Spanky whispers, ducking behind Colt’s back, peering around his shoulder with a faint whine.

“The hell are you so afraid of-”

“Amigo! Mi amigo Spanky! El Generico y Spanky numero uno amigos-”

“I’m **_not_ ** your amigo! Colt, you tell him!” Spanky says furiously, planting a hand on the face of the masked wrestler clutching at him, pushing roughly until the luchador’s head snaps back.

Colt winces, reaching out in concern, making an abortive move to stop the impending fight(?!) from getting started.

“Hey, hey, easy there. No need to start any shenanigans here in the locker room. Joe is around here somewhere, so let's not-”

“He’s passed out on a crate in the back hallway,” Rocky supplies, grinning cheekily as he passes them, swinging his wind breaker around as he walks.

Colt casts a nervous look towards the back of the building. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” Rocky says with a devilish smirk, sashaying past them with a flourish, swiping Colt with his jacket as he goes.

“Dead is what you guys are gonna be, if you can’t get those two losers to shut the fuck up,” Ricky adds, indicating Spanky and Generico, who are now tussling around on the floor, Generico enthusiastically trying to write his name on Spanky’s shoulder brace with a sharpie, while Spanky just appears to be trying to get the clingy wrestler to tap out with an arm bar. Colt raises an eyebrow at the scene, before turning back to give Ricky an unimpressed look. Ricky just lets out a triumphant whoop at his clever burn, grinning at Rocky, who laughs obnoxiously and slams a high five home.

“Hilarious, Romeo. Really, you and your better half are very amusing. Not what we need right now, but I appreciate the effort, really I do. Now, if you would kindly shut the hell up and go away, that would be excellent."

“Hey, does that make you my Juliet?" Rocky says, slapping Ricky with his jacket.

Ricky barks out a laugh, swatting at Rocky. “My Ye Olde Englishe is shit, but I'd give the balcony scene from the play a go-"

“It's a play?" Colt asks, tearing his eyes away from the hallway that he is half convinced two-hundred and sixty pounds of irate Somoan is about a second away from storming down, to stare at Rocky and Ricky in confusion.

Ricky makes an affronted noise. “The fuck you mean, ‘it's a play?' Of course it's a play, fool!"

“Did you just skip school entirely or what?" Rocky says, snapping his jacket at Colt again.

“I went to high school! I only skipped Tuesdays, I will have you know," Colt says, defending himself with a gusto as he attempts to pull El Generico off of poor Spanky, who is at this point covered in scrawled sharpie. “I just kind of skimmed the book, is all. I also might have watched the movie. Or maybe that was Titanic. I forget. Is there a boat in Romeo and Juliet?"

“Oh my god. Can you believe this loser, Rocky?"

“Right? I should go awaken Joe just so he can beat some sense into this uncultured fuck nugget," Rocky says, shaking his head like Colt has personally affronted him in all the ways that it is possible to offend someone.

Colt groans. “No, wait. Come on man, I swear- Goddamn it you two!" Colt throws his hands up, letting the two bodies fall back to the floor. Generico is now trapped in a sleeper, desperately clawing at Colt's pant legs as Spanky curses about Generico being an obnoxious, pushy, stubborn little piss-ant. Colt sighs, running a hand over his face as he contemplates what he should do in this moment.

“Hey, do you two have any butter, by any chance-?"

“The fuck is going on, and does is absolutely have to be so goddamn loud?"

Colt freezes. He glances up at the sound of frantic feet pounding against the floor. Rocky and Ricky, the little shits, have of course taken flight, fleeing down the hallway like the hounds of hell are right on their heels. Swallowing hard, Colt glances up, unable to stop himself from cringing back at the entirely unamused look on Joe's face.

Well.

They are Super Boned.

“Hey! Joe, how's it going-"

“Shut up," Joe says, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Colt.

Colt clamps his mouth shut on command, nodding and holding his hands up, resisting the strong urge to make a snide comment like ‘am I under arrest, officer'.

Probably wouldn't be super helpful in this moment.

Joe turns his attention to the two scuffling idiots on the ground. “Hey. You, yeah you. Get the fuck off the floor. The hell do you think you are, at your own goddamn house? Act like fucking adults for a single moment in your lives."

His tone gets their attention. Spanky shoves Generico off of him, but even the enthusiastic little luchador seems to understand the gravity of the situation, as he stands up and to attention, poking his chin out and looking at Joe attentively.

Joe just inhales sharply, his eagle eyes scanning them mercilessly. Finally, he seems satisfied or something, because he snorts and starts to turn, apparently to trudge back down the hallway that leads to the back of the building.

More crate sleeping in his future perhaps?

Joe speaks as he moves though, indicating El Generico without actually turning around or looking at him.

“Steen was getting into it with some asshole, and Hero got all cut up. You should go keep a leash on that wild fucker before anyone else gets hurt."

Colt makes a face at the information, even more confused than before. “What? What does that have to do with... and why are _you_ the one taking Generico anywhere-"

Joe snaps a silencing look at Colt. “I told you to shut up. Anyway, I'm not the one hauling off with the idiot."

“Hey guys!"

“Austin!" Spanky says, eyeing Joe warily before striding over to do some sort of ultra complicated secret handshake with his friend. Joe just rolls his eyes and stomps off down the hall, though not before subtly reaching out and patting a delighted Generico on the head.

Weird friendship.

Don't wanna know.

“Okay, so what exactly do _you_ have to do with all of this?" Colt asks Aries uncertainly, once he is sure that Joe isn't going to kill him for speaking.

Aries grins, though it is a slightly wry, chastised looking smile, more guilt ridden than his usual cocksure smirk. Colt swears that there is even a thread of regret in his eyes.

“Ah, well, see, I'm ‘some asshole'."

* * *

 

“You are both way too fucking stupid for your own goddamn good,” Daniels says dryly as they help Hero wobble unsteadily across the room.

Kevin grimaces at him, inhaling roughly as they flop Hero across a table, Daniels immediately taking the stupid bastard's shredded arm and inspecting it closely. Kevin jerks his eyes away from the torn flesh and jagged, painful looking tears, pulling himself away from the gruesome scene that would normally make him-

**_-need-_ **

-but at the moment, in this instance, just makes his stomach turn. He snatches up his bag from the floor, lifting it up and spilling its contents across the table Hero is now draped across. Scuffling through the items, he grasps a half full bottle of peroxide and a partial roll of athletic tape, tossing the items at Daniels.

Daniels flashes him a strained grin that is tinged with a heart stopping amount of worry, chewing on his bottom lips as he positions his body in between Kevin and Hero’s injuries, blocking Kevin’s line of sight from the mess. Kevin feels a flash of resentment at being babied, but the mental image of Hero’s ripped open arm is still fresh in his mind, the very though of which sends him into a panic that he would never admit to out loud.

“This is good. Thanks. Do you, by any fucking chance, know where Dragon is? His stitching is a little cleaner than mine.”

And.

**Oh.**

Kevin hadn't really... it had not occurred to him, until the moment those words left Daniels’ mouth, what exactly needed to be done. It should have struck him already of course, he had been in similar situations that required him to staple people's _skin_ back together, but-

(fuck)

“I don’t-” Kevin breaths harshly through his nose, the roiling **_-need-_** to leave almost overwhelming, even as he reaches down to help Hero fish a stray bag of potato chips out of the things Kevin threw from his bag.

(anything to distract the poor son of a bitch)

“I do not know where they are now, but the last time I saw them, Ex and Dragon were headed for the roof,” Kevin bites out, rolling his eyes as he pulls the bag of chips open for Hero, who looks pale and uncomfortable and vaguely like he wants to die.

Daniels lets out an aggravated snort, pulling his own bag over and fishing out the thread and needle he presumably keeps around in case his gear tears. Kevin averts his eyes when Daniels pours peroxide over his hands, the needle, and begins dabbing at the gashes with some gauze. “Excellent. Those assholes sure do have a great sense of ironic timing. Of all the times to go fool around on the goddamn roof-”

“Nothing we can do about it now. I take it this can’t wait?" Kevin gestures to the arm without looking at it, trying to block out the broken little half-sob that Hero utters when the needle pierces his flesh.

Daniels snorts and casts an irritated look at the ceiling in response and Kevin sighs. “Okay then, Dragon and Ex are on the roof, and we are your nurse maids. Lucky you, you meddling idiot,” Kevin says, snatching the bag of chips out of Hero’s hands, tired of watching the fool fumble with trying to eat them one handed. Hero makes an outraged noise and tries to reach for them, but Kevin pulls them away and Daniels slams a hand down on Hero’s arm, holding him still.

“Hold the fuck still, kid. Do you want me to flay the skin off of your arm?” Daniels says, completely deadpan.

Hero lets out a distressed wail. Kevin rolls his eyes, but makes sure not to look over at the stitching job, focusing instead on distracting himself with shoving a hand full of chips in Hero’s mouth, just to shut the whiney little bitch up.

“Sorry, did you want me?”

Kevin sighs out loud, so done with this particular shit show of a day that he can barely muster the energy to answer Bryan’s question. He lets the scruffy midget stew for a minute, Bryan breathing hard from rushing over here, presumably because someone told them about the ruckus. Or because he heard them say his name.

Whatever.

(god, I need a fucking nap)

“Fuck no, Bryan. I was talking about Super Dragon.”

“Oh,” Bryan looks like he is absorbing that information for a moment. He makes to turn away, but as he does so, Kevin can practically see a light bulb go off above his head, “Hey, Disco was looking for Excalibur earlier-”

Kevin rolls his neck, reaching over and clamping a hand around Hero’s other shoulder, as the man visibly strains to stay still. Ignoring the trembling as Hero suffers, Kevin directs his attention to Bryan, frankly glad for the distraction.

And Christopher’s uncannily steady hands. Jesus Christ.

“Of course he is. I’m gonna kick both of their asses when they get back down here. Whatever, I guess somebody should tell Disco where Ex is. Was. I don’t know if they are still up there. On the roof. You know what, I’m so done with this horseshit. Disco can just wait for a goddamn while for them to come back down.”

Bryan nods, running a hand over the back of his neck,glancing down at Hero with a pinched, concerned look on his face. “Right. Okay then, if you don’t want to go, do you want me to tell Disco, or...?”

Kevin shrugs, dropping the chip bag and turning, planting both hands against Hero’s shoulders as the other man makes an aborted move to get up. Hero settles, teeth clenched and flashing a desperate, pained, somewhat grateful look Kevin’s way. Daniels glances back, nodding to Kevin and continuing to slowly and precisely weave the needle through Hero’s flesh.

“You can if you want, but I don’t think anyone involved would thank you for it. They’ll be back down eventually. Ex probably already knows that Disco is looking for him, I think he just wants to make the fucker wait.”

Bryan nods, reaching over to pluck his gloves off of the table. “Alright then, I’ll just let them sort it out amongst themselves. Do you guys need anything for the-” he waves vaguely at the scene before him, a deep concern creasing lines into his round, friendly face.

Daniels looks up briefly, reaching for the spool of thread, presumably to thread the needle again, as he presses the torn skin of the second gash shut with fingers that do not shake the way Kevin feels like his insides are.

Kevin looks away before his stomach starts making it’s way up his esophagus.

“Do you have any disinfectant on you? I’m about out over here, and I don’t want this getting infected,” Daniels says nonchalantly. He holds out the tiny piece of metal and Kevin obediently lifts one hand off of Hero’s shaking shoulders and holds the needle as steady as he can while Daniels loops more thread through the eye hole.

Bryan is already moving, Kevin tempted to laugh as the little man clearly jumps at the call to action, ready to help in any way he can.

(idiot)

“I can do that. I think I saw some iodine in Joe’s bag-”

“Of fucking course that stiff bastard carries iodine around, goddamn lunatic,” Kevin says with a strained, halting chuckle, pressing back down with both hands as Hero makes another deeply distressed sound.

“It’s better than nothing,” Hero gasps, spiking a lightning bolt of relief through Kevin, as it confirms that the man is not completely gone with pain.

“Almost done, my man. Just gotta finish up these last two cuts,” Daniels says brightly, patting Hero on the head with his elbow.

“Thank fucking god,” Kevin and Hero recite at the same time, glancing at each other after wards with wry, slightly hysterical amusement.

“Que?”

“Holy shit dude. The fuck did you **_do_** , Steen?”

Kevin turns, feeling peal of regretful guilt when he gets an eyeful of that worried hazel gaze, all tentative uncertainty and tepid reluctance. The idiot sidles right up next to Hero, all big eyes full of concern. Kevin clears his throat, inadvertently drawing attention to himself, bracing himself for the disappointment in those eyes, most likely directed at him-

(which is _bullshit_ )

(Aries started it)

_-well-_

(he **did** )

 ** _Hero_ ** got in the way.

_-right-_

But there is no accusation in **_those eyes_** , only compassion and sincere concern. Kevin looks away, reaching out and wordlessly tapping a finger against a cheek adorned with ginger fuzz, inhaling through all the stupid things that want to come pouring out of his own idiot mouth at the sight of the little spastic fool.

That Cabana bitch is hovering, standing in between Aries and Kevin, though whether it is to protect Aries or Kevin, or just a paltry attempt to keep Kevin and Aries from going after each other again, Kevin is unsure. He gestures to Cabana regardless, accepting the touch of pale, calloused hands on his chest as a spindly form leans close to him on it’s way down to coo at a dazed Hero.

Who looks a _little_ less like death.

Which is probably a good sign.

Or something.

“Cabana, mind getting our patient some fucking water, to replace all the liquids he is losing at the moment?”

Aries looks down and at the floor, and Kevin has to fight the urge to do the same, all the while cursing himself for how wretched he feels about this.

Which must only be because he was aiming for Aries.

Kevin vows to work on his throwing arm. That way, the next time he throws a sheet of glass at someone, he’ll hit his target, and not the dumb motherfucker trying to stop the fight.

**_-yeah-_ **

_-great plan-_

_-sure that'll work out **aces** -_

“Yeah, I can do that. No more fighting for the time being, all right?” Cabana says warily, eying Aries and Kevin. Aries holds up his hands in surrender and Kevin just snorts, closing his eyes as the hand on his chest closes into a fist, the fingers burning holes in his t-shirt as those melodious tones whisper words of summer comfort to the wounded.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I have had enough fighting for the moment, thank you very fucking much.”

**Author's Note:**

> PSA! I've said this before, but never, EVER perform local, untrained surgery on anyone. Unless there is literally no other option (stranded, no accessible hospital, etc.) don't try this shit at home. You will probably do more damage than good. Also, throwing glass at people is not the way to solve your problems. Plus, it never breaks the way you think it will.
> 
> Not that I would know :/


End file.
